


Wish Upon a Star-Lord

by Star_Prince



Series: Wish Upon a Star-Lord [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: CIRCLE OF LIFE, Comedy, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Headcanon, Lion King (1994) References, Post-Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), Star-Lord's dirty little secret, Story series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-20 10:25:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2425268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Prince/pseuds/Star_Prince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After dragging the team to a 'backwater' planet under false pretenses, the Guardians learn that Quill still has an old contact in the Ravagers that they're about to rendezvous with.  The resulting meeting leaves everyone happy, especially a beaming Quill who is the proud owner of a new mysterious case. Ever-curious, Rocket takes it upon himself to find out what the great and mighty Star-Lord has in there...though he finds out in a very unexpected way. (Eventual Pocket stuff to happen, just waitforit)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Once Upon a Time...

“Quill, do me a favor and explain to me just **one** last flarkin’ time why we’re in this Podunk, backwater sector? I mean, I’m **sure** our fearless leader’s got a hell of a good reason t’be here, but for the life of me I CAN’T FIGURE IT OUT.” The creature who the words belonged to was gripping onto the fur near his temples while he shouted, the soft-looking hair threatening to rip out by the root as it was tugged and pulled. Honestly, it was a pretty comical sight: this raccoonish individual that walked and talked like a man freaking out so badly that eyes bugged out from their sockets and foam started to collect at his muzzle.

In fact, the human (well, half-human technically) called Quill was just about to snort out and make a comment about rabies before a large, imposing green figure stepped between the two to interrupt. All muscle, sinew, and ink, the harsh-looking male grunted out curtly in response to the procyon’s inquiry “I’m sure there is a good reason we’re here. Quill wouldn’t waste the time, money, and patience it took to get here if it weren’t for something very important, isn’t that right?”

The small amount of sarcasm that Peter Quill had in him seemed to die away at that sentence, shoulders tensing up and the Terran going rigid as his pace picked up some “Yup. Yup that’s right Drax, exactly right. But it’s all very secret, hush-hush type of business, the less ya know the better.” A gloved hand passed smoothly through a thicket of wavy, dirty blond hair as the silence resulting from the comment cut into the man; risking a look back to the others, the Terran found that the three companions he had taken into the ragged slums of Oobagon VIII had stopped dead in their tracks to stare suspiciously at him.

“There **is** a good reason you brought us here…right Peter?” the green woman asked behind him, arms crossed tightly over her chest to show just how displeased she was at the current situation. Digits drummed nimbly onto an emerald arm, and Quill could have sworn he saw a hand dip down hastily, as if to grab the weapon at her hip. “Because, I can assure you…if this is a repeat of the Kyln where you went back for that musical device, I…no, **we** will make you pay.”

Quill stiffened and slowly looked from Gamora, to Drax, and then to Rocket, each one practically bristling with expected anger over the fact that they were bamboozled by the infamous thief. The cracking of knuckles and the subtle hum of a charging weapon filled the air around him, forcing the Terran to extend his arms out and wave them frantically, his own eyes now wide as his very existence was threatened “Woah woah woah! C’mon cool it! I-“

Befor he coud continue on however, Drax stomped forward and held a thick finger out to Quill, snarling “We will not placate your desire to lower our core body temperatures until we are given further explanation!”

Really, the Terran was lucky for that little outburst because it caused three out of the four party members to stop what they were doing and just stare, most of them slack-jawed. Quill started off tentatively, eying the large male cautiously as if saying the wrong thing (meaning the one all three were thinking) would mean his doom “Drax…man, it’s an expression…like calm-down cool it, right?”

Drax grumbled out, absolutely glaring at Quill as that meaty finger prodded the man’s chest, his voice rough and low “It matters not! We demand that you tell us what we’re doing on this slum of a planet, and for your sake, we hope it’s for something important!” With three sets of eyes on him, each pair narrowed in suspicion, the leader of the Guardians knew he wasn’t going to be able to talk his way out of forgetting the reason, so the man simply gave out a heavy sigh and waved the other’s along, motioning them to follow after him as he did what he did best: tell only half the truth.

“I’m meeting an old Ravager contact; he said he has a list of nouns for us. Yes, nouns: people, places, **and** things. And he has info on Yondu too s- would you all stop lookin’ at me like that, it’s a little unnerving.” All eyes were on Quill now, that slack-jawed quality devolving into full-on open mouths as Rocket, Gamora, and Drax all gaped at him. “And **yes** I know it’s a bad idea to have a Ravager contact still, and **yes** , I know it could be trap where Yondu’s waiting behind a curtain to stab me repeatedly with that neat little arrow of his…but…well, I trust the guy. I grew up with him and he taught me a lot about what I was going into…we were both from the same system after all, gotta look after your own.”

No one said anything for a while, the entire crew just keeping their heads bowed as they continued on at a weakened pace; it was eventually Gamora that broke the silence, her voice uncharacteristically tender as she spoke out softly “Peter…he tried to kill you. He tried to kill **us**. And after that trick you pulled with the infinity stone, I’m not sure if-“

The emerald woman was cut off there, a gloved hand raising up as Quill chuckled “Nah, you don’t have to worry about that. Remember how quick Yondu found me when he really wanted to kill me? It was a matter of days…it’s been months since I pulled that switcheroo on him and we haven’t heard a peep about Ravagers comin’ to get us now have we?” Seeing a few skeptical looks thrown in his direction, the Terran sighed out and paused outside a weather-worn building with the quaint title of ‘DRINKS HERE’, the simply titled bar apparently the meeting place the quartet had been heading towards this whole time. “Just…trust me. I know it’s stupid but you’ve trusted me for stupider things, right?” A goofy grin was all that was left after that, Quill simply beaming stupidly towards each of his friends while muffled groans and obvious eye-rolling met him. Sure, it wasn’t enthusiastic, but it was still a yes!

Clapping his gloved hands, Quill quickly began to rub them together frantically, puffing excitedly as he nodded to the other. “Now then, down to business, right?” Pushing the door open hard, the Terran burst into the not-so-crowded bar, exclaiming out before he even saw his old Martian friend “Makrow, I’m hooooome~”

* * *

 

 

The meeting, despite the groan-worthy entrance, actually went over pretty well; just like Quill had said, his contact was really looking out for him, helping not only the Terran but the entire team as well. Information on Thanos’s suspected movements were provided which pleased Drax and Gamora beyond belief, and there were a few supply caches that would leave Rocket in inventing euphoria for days. And despite all that inside information that would no doubt leave the Guardians buzzing excitedly for a long while, it was nothing compared to the last gift Markow had for Quill.

Really, on the outside it didn’t look all that impressive at all: a simple briefcase about the size of a datapad, locked up tightly with some unknown treasure in it. Something that had Quill trembling as he gingerly grabbed ahold of the container, the man practically frozen in awe as he tugged the thing closer. A sly cough from the Martian snapped Peter back to reality, the male giving his contact a sheepish grin before nodding and typing an obscene amount of numbers onto his own datapad, the things corresponding with just how many credits were depositing themselves in Makrow’s account. The price actually made Rocket spit his drink out his nose, his nasal passages burning as his sneaky little mind went to work figuring out a way to relieve Quill from his new possession…it was nothing personal really. It was just like the old saying went: there’s no honor among thieves.

The farewells were quick at that point, the Terran rushing the group out of the seedy tavern as soon as his hand grabbed onto the case’s handle, his old friend simply giving a knowing smirk to the group before nodding after the human. For the most part, the quartet remained silent as they moved forward, approaching the ship at a heightened pace now that their leader had obtained what he came for, but occasionally, Rocket would break the silence to cough out and ask a few curt questions. “So…Quill. What’s in th-“

Cut off before he could even finish the question, Peter waved the inquiry off dismissively and shook his head “It’s nothing. Really, forget you even saw this alright?” Seeing a brow or two perked up in curiosity, the Terran sighed out and started anew “Look, it’s not that I don’t trust you it’s just…well, it’s really confidential stuff. I don’t want to get you guys caught up in a fight you don’t understand until I got all my facts straight, alright?” That much was enough to please Drax and Gamora, the green pair giving a few understanding nods and words before starting up a conversation with one another about Thanos.

It was Rocket who couldn’t let the subject go, trying his best to get just a little bit of info on whatever was in that case…yet all his valiant efforts were for naught. Quill wasn’t budging from what he had said earlier, and the male eventually went on to ignore the questions the procyon came up with for him. While it did silence the raccoon for the time being, it really only served to grow that seed of curiosity into a compulsion to know what was in that case, and Rocket was determined enough to find out at all costs.

* * *

 

 

“Flarkin’ Quill and that stupid flarkin’ case! Can’t just be a –normal- guy and tell his buddy what he’s got locked up huh?” Nimble hands were twitching some in a fit of rage as Rocket vented out, the raccoon positively seething over the fact that, after a full 48 hours, he was still no closer to knowing what Star-Lord got his hands on the other day, and why it had to be this great big secret.

He had tried numerous ways of getting the information too; constantly bugging Quill (both metaphorically and literally), hacking into the Terran’s datapad to try and pull out any clues, building a few bombs (which were quickly discovered and confiscated) to blow the human’s door of its hinges…every attempt he had made to either steal or learn about the case had ended in failure and a lecture and frankly, the raccoon was getting sick of it. “Thinks he’s so cool…getting’ that flarkin’ case ‘n showin’ it off ‘n not tellin’ us about it…”

Grabbing a pillow off a couch, the raccoon continued to seethe, anger and rage over constant failures to satiate his curiosity finally were starting to boil over, and that meant the entire crew was soon going to have to deal with a feisty forest critter on the edge. Small fists slammed into the feather-stuffed thing as Rocket grumbled “Lookit him all charmin’ ‘n suave…actin’ like a flarkin’ covert spy and keeping secrets and…and…” The raccoon’s eyes closed shut tightly, then snapped open as the male finally seemed to snap at last; grabbing the corner of the pillow, the Procyon began swinging the fluffy thing hard from side to side, slamming it into the corners of walls and on the ground while he screamed “ **Makin’ me…beat up…PILLOWS**!”

At that last word, the pillow went flying down the hall, disappearing out of sight while downy white feathers began to fall to the ground like snow. Rocket groaned out and grabbed at the bridge of his muzzle, squeezing the area there as he walked forward to retrieve the destroyed pillow. “Ugh, Quill’s done a number on me…I give up though, th’ big idiot won, so congrats Quill, ya succeeded in makin’ me go insane.” Reaching the end of the hall still grumbling softly “Beatin’ up a d’ast pillow…” Rocket paused in front of Quill’s half-open room and sighed out, little flashes of blue and white light illuminating him from the cracked door as he stared at Star-Lord’s quarters.

At last he shook his head and let a hand pass over and behind his ears, the pointed things quickly flicking back up while the Procyon sighed out “Alright, time to admit defeat. I’ve had ‘bout enough of this.” Lightly, Rocket knocked on the Terran’s door, and after no response the raccoon tugged the thing open a bit more to start his apology…to say ‘sorry’ for being childish and moody and for hacking into the Milano’s power systems and threatening to turn off the life support systems. The first words were about to leave his lips when he stopped dead in his tracks, just staring at the scene playing out before him.

Quill was seated on the floor sans leather and pants, his eyes wide with amusement and lips outstretched in a dopey grin; but that wasn’t the odd part, no. What had Rocket really questioning Peter’s (and not to mention his own) sanity was how he was holding up a small pot with the seedling Groot, belting out obnoxiously “♫ IT’S THE CIIIIIIRCLE OF LIIIIIIIIIFE! ♫”

So, staring in a mixture of horror and interest, Rocket did what seemed natural to do in this situation: slam the door shut, smirk as the Terran fumbled to bring the potted alien down into his lap, and snort derisively “You got problems Quill…”

 


	2. There Was A Fair Prince...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rocket proceeds to let Quill know just what his problems are while Star-Lord does his best to keep his secret...well, a secret.

Damage Control. Those were the first words that flashed through Peter Quill’s mind as he sat half-naked on the ground in front of the ship’s communication monitors with a pot full of Groot in his lap. His mouth was dry and his body charged with adrenaline, each limb twitching as liquid lightning pumped through his veins.  The Terran’s fingers twitched subtly and pupils dilated as they took in the furry silhouette to his right, his fight-or-flight response leaning heavily towards ‘fight’ as he stared at a set of shining fangs that illuminated their owner’s devious face.

There was no doubt in Quill’s mind that Rocket was already plotting how to use the discovery of this little situation to his advantage, and before things progressed much farther, Peter knew he had to fight and ward off his fuzzy teammate. Whether it be distracting him, outsmarting him, or just kicking him out of his room, **something** had to be done to prevent this situation from spiraling out of control. Without thinking, Peter slid the still-potted (and extremely disappointed-looking) Groot off to the side and scrambled to stand up, rushing towards the raccoon standing in his doorway while he tried to form words that hinted at the procyon scramming immediately.

“H-hey! Rocket, hahaha…ha…haha, this isn’t the bathroom y’know. Or the erm…” Quill cut himself off when he almost stepped on the movie’s protective case, a foot scrambling to fling the thing off to the side and under his bed before he continued on, “Kitchen! Yeah, the kitchen…speakin’ of which, I’m thirsty, let’s drink. Yeah, booze, let’s get booze and get less thirs-…”

Despite the man’s valiant efforts, it seemed Rocket came prepared to counter even his best distractions. “Yeah, I know where I flarkin’ am Quill…this isn’t m’first night on th’ ship, I ain’t gonna accidentally wander in somewhere…came in t’tell ya somethin’ but…boy, do I got a ton of questions now. Like: why are ya watchin’ those fake animals sing ‘n run ‘round on screen; or why d’ya have Groot in here when it’s _way past his bedtime_ ; or most importantly, th’ hell’s with that geddup?”

In a normal situation, Quill would have responded to that second inquiry with a snort and a roll of the eyes, all-too-amused that once again the raccoon had adopted the role of a doting mother to the plantlet, more worried about him getting to bed on time for a good night’s rest than almost anything else. However, this was most definitely not a normal situation, and instead of focusing on the second comment, the Terran’s brain leapt right to the third one. So now instead of rolling those eyes, they were too busy staring down at his oufit; the lateness of the evening meant the regular Ravager getup had been discarded, leather and durable fiber thrown off to the side in favor of more comfortable clothing. Namely, a loose cotton t-shirt that displayed an iconic anthropomorphic mouse, and a snug pair of orange boxer-briefs that clung to the male’s thighs.

For the first time in Peter Quill’s life, embarrassment over being caught in such a scantily-clothed state flared up within him, his stubbled cheeks turning rosy while a hand thoughtlessly moved lower to try and cover up what was usually so proudly put on display. “This? What? Nothing, sleep clothes, not like you sleep in your clothes right, they’d get wrinkled and…” he could see the amusement this was bringing Rocket, and that just made his cheeks grow hotter with annoyance, “and we **all** know just how angry you were your little jumpsuit got wrinkled on the Kyln.” The retort was finished quickly, the Terran rushing to get all of the words out at once while he still had that fire lit in his belly against the procyon with that stupid smirk on his muzzle.

“Ahuh, yeah, got it. Y’know, I just figured that ya’d sleep nekkid, like all us other normal people do, m’mistake there Star Ponce.” That stupid fang-filled grin just seemed to grow wider as the raccoon crossed his arms over his chest, nimble digits tapping patiently on an arm as the mammal took his time riling Quill up, baiting him into even more precious reactions than the ones he had gotten so far. “But really, that don’t answer m’first two questions Quill. Why’re ya watchin’ this flarkin’ kiddy stuff ‘n _why is Groot still up_. I wasn’t kiddin’ when I made a bedtime for him y’know, he’s gotta be up early t’photosynthesize and you’re **completely** ruinin’ that scheduled cycle ya d’ast idjit!”

Quill said nothing as he was scolded by the much smaller mammal, the man shifting awkwardly in place, still covering his lower half with an arm while the other remained crossed over his chest, hand nestled up under his armpit. For a few long moments, he thought just how he was going to respond to this, this “d’ast idjit” as Rocket called him never once thinking for a second that he would be caught watching his guilty pleasure, not for a moment considering what to say if a situation just like this one were to arise. And just as he was about to open his stupid mouth and say something that might have saved him a little bit of grief in the long run, the procyon waved the unspoken words off and rolled his eyes “Ah forget this; c’mon Groot, back t’bed. Man, I can’t wait ‘til the others hear ‘bout how I caught the great Star-Lord with his pants down… _literally_.”

A fake laugh bubbled up from the raccoon’s chest, a derisive little cackle that arose as he turned and started to walk away…and that sent Quill into a deeper sense of panic. Before he could try and calm himself, the male had gasped out, words spilling from his lips “N-no! Rocket, c’mon don’t man, y’can’t tell anyone!” Peter regretted it immediately, begging Rocket like that, showing his hand on just how embarrassing the situation was for him; and as the raccoon turned around to face him, he instantly understood just why it had been a mistake. Those ever-predatory eyes the mammal had were twinkling with sly machinations that Peter could never hope to understand, and that devious grin that had been plastered over the other’s face had turned into something much more cruel…much more sadistic.

“Oh, I can’t huh? And just exactly why is that _Star-Lord_?” The Terran’s vigilante name was just dripping with venom as the other cooed it out, and for the first time ever, Quill actually flinched and grimaced as the name he had chosen for himself…that his mother had gifted him…was uttered correctly.

The Terran gulped down hard and smacked his lips together a few times, his entire mouth as dry as sand as he tried to form his response without sounding too pathetic. And really, it was difficult for him in this state, bubbling with adrenaline and wallowing in a mixture of emotions that included, but were not limited to: embarrassment, anger, self-pity, and shame. Fingers twitched to life and his digits curled in upon themselves, forming trembling fists as the man forced himself to take a deep breath, close his eyes, and try to proceed calmly with this bad situation. “Because first of all, as your leader I commanded it, and that should be more than enough reason. And second, we all have things we don’t want people t’know about. You more than anyone Rocket should understand that so…just do me a favor, and don’t mention it t’anyone else. Just forget ya saw anything.

Almost as an afterthought, the tiny sprout that been so eagerly discussed before made his opinion heard, the almost comical soprano voice echoing around the room as the seedling nodded his agreement to what Quill had said. “I am Groot.”

Having absolutely no idea if th miniature tree-man was helping his cause or not, the Terran finally let that hand stray from his thighs, both arms lifting exasperatedly into the air as he exclaimed “See? Groot agrees with me, you should listen to both of us Rocket! We’re all friends, right? _Riiiiiiiight_?” Quill was reaching at this point, teeth clenched together and breathing a little too ragged as he searched the other for some kind of reaction, desperate to find the one he hoped for; and as Rocket stared long and hard at Groot, and then to Peter, a miracle seemed to reveal itself as the raccoon rolled his eyes, shrugged, and nodded.

“Yeah yeah, geeze…ya act like ‘m some sorta villain. This ain’t a fairy tale Quill, the big bad Rocket ain’t gonna barge inta yer life and destroy yer precious lil’…” Short arms waved frantically to and fro, dexterous digits stretching outwards as the procyon finished the thought “ _Whatever_ the hell this is. Just, th’ next time ya decide t’have this kinda slumber party, gimmee some heads up. Now Groot’s gonna be sleepy all day t’morrow ‘n s’gonna be awful.”

Glaring rebelliously at his friend, the tiny Groot seemed to puff out his wooden cheeks and fold his miniaturized limbs over his chest while he squeaked out “I am Gro-“

Not even able to finish the thought, Rocket snorted, snatched the potted alien up, and turned on his heel, a hand waving up in the air dismissively “Yeah yeah, we all know yer not some kid. But if ya don’t get a full 6 hours of respiration ya get cranky and I ain’t gonna deal with that t’morrow. Night Quill, have fun with yer _lions_.”

Peter winced at the word, shifting awkwardly in place as its derogatory implication sank into him a bit; he was a grown man, he could do whatever he wanted and not be embarrassed in the slightest over any like, action, or thought! Yet being caught watching that lion movie by Rocket…a feeling of shame was bubbling inside the man’s gut, slowly radiating out to every inch of the Terran as if all that adrenaline he had been high off moments before was slowly undergoing a chemical reaction to produce pure liquid humiliation. The only bright-side this little scene had was Rocket agreed to keep his secret and, strangely, a small feeling of hope began to grow alongside that sense of embarrassment.

Unfortunately, if he had seen the raccoon’s wily smirk or those scheming eyes or heard that maniacal chuckle echo around the pair as Rocket and Groot left his room, Quill could have seen through the other’s deceit and prevented what was about to unfold from happening. But then, that would mean this isn’t a fairy tale, wouldn’t it?


End file.
